


Soothe the Savage Beast

by Dustbunnygirl



Series: Tales of the Bard - Reggie's Story [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-12
Updated: 2007-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dustbunnygirl/pseuds/Dustbunnygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Soothe the Savage Beast, 4 of 10<br/>Prompt: Chocolate, “the 10s” challenge.<br/>Fandom: n/a<br/>Pairing: Dahlia/Reggie<br/>Rating: G<br/>Word count: 957<br/>Warnings: No, this has nothing whatsoever to do with bestiality, even if one of the characters being written about here is, at the moment, a ferret. Those of you who read “The Not-So-Sordid Tale of Reginald the Unfortunate” (wherein I channeled Douglas Adams, badly) already know that furry little Reggie’s not at all what he seems. No angry comments or links to PETA, please.<br/>Disclaimer: These characters are entirely owned by moi and come from my still untitled, unpublished, mostly second drafted Monster Book of the Unholy. They do not play well with others. The only person to blame for them is, unfortunately, me. However, blame legal_padawan for the fact this story was written at all, as she twisted my arm into this challenge of hers.</p><p>Yes, I know the quote is actually "...to soothe the savage breast," but it gets misquoted all the time, and the misquote works well here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soothe the Savage Beast

It was amazing how much more generous complete strangers became when Dahlia added a dancing ferret to the act. Even if the ferret was reluctant, ambivalent, and more or less phoning his performance in. No one seemed to notice the lack of enthusiasm in Reggie’s leaps and twirls or the angry tone of his chittering complaints between songs. Not another single soul had the slightest inkling of the hundred and one other things he would rather be doing – which he was more than happy to list off whenever he paused to catch his breath – or that among them were sky diving without a parachute and catching his tail in a meat grinder. His inherent, “Oh look, it’s a furry thing doing something!” cuteness overrode all else.

Much to his rampant, vocal, four-letter-word strewn displeasure. 

Dahlia had set up shop that morning on the sidewalk outside the Japanese Friendship Garden, eager to ring in the first warm day of spring with a few celebratory melodies. Winter had felt unusually long and cruel and she’d waited with little patience for the season to pass into memory. There were birds singing outside her window this morning and the sound of their song ignited a spark inside her that could not be ignored. She unearthed Ralph the violin from the stack of laundry she’d buried him under, gave him a quick and gentle tuning, and bounded for the door like there were springs in her sneakers. Only a frowning ferret in her path stopped her escape. Reggie insisted she needed a chaperone and could not be trusted to stay out of trouble on her own. Ever since the night of the wolf attack he was loath to let her out of his sight.

Which made her wonder what sort of help he thought he would’ve been that night, all two feet of him from nose tip to tail tip, against a six foot snarling wolf. But she was bright enough not to voice that question aloud.

Dahlia smiled as the bow wrought a bouncing Celtic jig out of the strings and another kind passerby threw a palmful of change into Ralph’s open case. It wasn’t the money - not that Dahlia was the kind of artist that thought art should exist just for art’s sake and money be damned, she simply took pleasure in the enjoyment others found in her music. It’s one of the reasons, beyond the moral implications, that she never felt the need to let the music compel the generosity of others. That they stop and listened was enough. That they felt compelled to express their appreciation monetarily simply meant a little extra cash in the pocket to supplement the paycheck from Henry’s. 

Reggie, however, didn’t share her simplistic view.

“It seems a bit masochistic,” he said in a breathless gasp as he paused in the quick jumps and twirls the music required. “Standing out here, playing your fingers sore for pennies and quarters.”

“It’s fun.” Dahlia’s fingers never faltered and the bow stayed straight and true as it jumped over the strings. “Besides, those pennies and quarters mean treats on the way home.”

“As if you need more sugar,” he muttered, before jumping back in the dance.

“And you obviously need more. Hop to, lazy bones. Show the folks some sparkle!”

-

Noon was quiet inside the garden. Outside, people wandered the street on the way to work or lunch or the illusive thingamajig waiting in one of the stores to be purchased and taken home. Dahlia sat on a bench inside the garden’s wrought iron fence, counting the contents of her case while Reggie rested in the shade beneath the bench. The sun warmed the greening grass and the budding trees and the concrete she sat on. It was a perfect spring afternoon and she wasn’t nearly ready to leave it in favor of the tower-like security of the apartment. And Reggie, for his part, hadn’t started insisting they do so yet.

“What’s the total?” came a drowsy voice as a warm weight settled on her knee. Dahlia looked down and smiled at the little ferret, chin and front paws resting above a rip in her jeans. She reached down and scratched his head, right between his ears like he liked.

“Twenty-five dollars, fifty cents, and a Hershey’s Kiss.” She held out her palm, displaying the foil-wrapped treat with the little white flag pointing out of the top. “Almond even.”

“Oooh, tis the holy grail indeed. Lo, that tiny piece of confection shall bring about the end of the Dark Queen and all her minions.” Reggie rolled his eyes, something Dahlia was also sure most ferrets couldn’t do, but had simply come to accept as normal for hers. “The Dark is trembling in its booties.”

“I didn’t come out here to save the world,” she said, unwrapping the foil and popping the candy into her mouth. 

“Why did you come out here?”

“To replenish my soul.” Dahlia left the spoils of her morning’s work in her case with Ralph and closed it with a quiet click. Then she paused before standing and said, “And because I got tired of hiding. We hole up in that apartment like rabbits too scared of the wolves to live our lives and what is there worth fighting for anymore?”

Reggie was silent then. After a moment’s thought he hopped up onto her knee and scampered up her arm. In a second he was burrowed beneath her hair and settled comfortably around her neck. As she picked up Ralph’s case and stood, he said, “So, same time next week?”

Dahlia grinned. “Sure. If it doesn’t rain.”

“Yes, no rain. I’m far less entertaining when I look like a drowned rat.”


End file.
